


Things We Do Without Blankets

by ALC_Punk



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/F, Public Sex, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-15
Updated: 2018-12-15
Packaged: 2019-09-18 14:05:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16996407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ALC_Punk/pseuds/ALC_Punk
Summary: The Doctor gives her the bad news with kisses: they can get back to the TARDIS, but only by having sex. Right there, in the throne room. Luckily, there's also an orgy going on. Written for the femslash kink meme.





	Things We Do Without Blankets

**Author's Note:**

> This was a pairing I wasn't expecting to write (as at the time, I hadn't watched any episodes), but I keep seeing these lovely gifs on tumblr. And then skimming the kink meme, this one jumped out at me fully-formed and I went ahead and wrote it. Also, they're hot.

"It would be rude. An insult to our hosts," the Doctor says as she leans into Yasmin, pressing her against the wall. The whole room is still filled with people, mingling, pairing off, tripling and quadrupling off in more than a few cases. But there is still a focus on the two of them. An expectancy, as their leader watches from her throne. There's a man at her feet, kissing his way up her legs, but she's mostly ignoring them.

Yasmin lets out a gasp as lips brush along her neck. The Doctor plays dirty, knowing all the little places she likes to be touched (it's only been a bloody month, she shouldn't be this easy to read). "That's it, just stop thinking, love."

"I don't--"

"We can fake it long enough for them to be distracted." The Doctor is offering her a way out, a respite. It's kind.

Suddenly, Yasmin doesn't want _kind_. It's not like she hasn't had fantasies about things like this in the past. But fantasy isn't exactly reality, and thinking about people watching her come isn't quite the same. There's more of an edge, more expectation, and Yasmin can tell she's getting wet just imagining it. A whimper escapes her, "I think--don't fake it, just--"

"Clothes stay on--well, I'll strip. I like rubbing against you when you're in leather and jeans," the Doctor demonstrates, even with her own clothing still on, there's excellent stimulus. "And I want to suck on your tits."

Oh _fuck_. Yasmin closes her eyes and sucks in a deep breath, letting it out too fast as she reaches out blindly and grabs at the Doctor's shirt. "Shut up and kiss me."

"As my lady wishes," murmurs the other woman, and she leans in, brushing their mouths together. There's an intensity to it even before Yasmin pulls her closer, one hand on her hip, the other still fisted in her shirt.

Yasmin blocks out the rest of the room as the Doctor kisses her way from Yasmin's mouth to her neck, sucking hard in spots as she travels down the side of her throat. Her hands aren't idle, one working its way up Yasmin's shirt to play with her breasts, the other unceremoniously unbuttoning and unzipping (one-handed, at some point, Yasmin is going to remember how hot that was; right now, it's just part of the whole experience) and then delving into her knickers.

"Shirt off," the Doctor murmurs, pulling back a little, though the hands stay where they are.

There are fingers slowly stroking and brushing their way between Yasmin's thighs. Just teasing, and she opens her eyes (when did she close them?) to find the Doctor watching her, smug. "Right. Shirt." She fumbles a little before getting her jumper off, then her shirt. She leaves her bra, waiting to see what happens next.

"Good 'nough," leaning in, the Doctor pulls down one bra cup and dips her head.

Her lips make contact with the side of Yasmin's breast and begin a lazy, leisurely journey from side to side, until she suddenly latches onto the nipple.

Yasmin isn't really proud of the sound she makes, but she can't help it.

The hand between her legs flexes and shifts, and she widens her stance to give the fingers more room to maneuver. With lips and teeth on her nipple and fingers stroking her gently, she starts to wonder if she's going to come embarrassingly hard in a room full of strangers.

As though knowing exactly her thoughts, the Doctor pulls her mouth away and leans up to kiss her again. Her fingers plunge into Yasmin in one quick thrust that makes her moan into the Doctor's mouth.

Taking that as an invitation, the Doctor mimics her fingers' movements with her tongue as her thumb rolls up and traces around Yasmin's clit. It's too light a touch, too frustrating, and Yasmin leans her head back, grinding her cunt down against the hand between her legs. "More," she demands, when their mouths separate.

"More what, love?"

Flicking Yasmin's clit with her thumb one last time, the Doctor's hand shifts as she smirks at Yasmin. Fingers sliding in and out and twisting just a little feel amazing, but they're not enough. Yasmin is fairly certain the Doctor could keep her right on the edge for hours if she wanted. Probably some sort of bloody time lord magic she hasn't sussed out yet.

"Need more, another finger, your mouth on my nipples, your hand--" Yasmin curses, then manages to add, "press the heel right against my clit, please."

"Like this?" The Doctor asks innocently as she complies.

Another finger, the firm press of a hand, and Yasmin rolls her hips, "Yes--that--"

Her neglected nipple is surrounded by the heat and wet of the Doctor's mouth, and the other is being pinched a little too tightly, and the twinge of pain is just enough, more than enough to push her over the edge.

Yasmin doesn't even remember that they're surrounded by people, that their access to the TARDIS depends on their success in this little venture, that she'd never really liked fucking in public. None of that matters as she comes hard, a cry escaping her that will probably haunt her at a later date. Or be one of those embarrassing things she recounts during drunken girls' nights down the local.

"That's it, love, that's it. I've got you," the Doctor murmurs as she begins to slump back against the wall.

Not really capable of thought or words, Yasmin reaches out and pulls the Doctor's mouth to her own, kissing her sloppily. Her fingers push the coat and suspenders off the Doctor's shoulders before they start tugging her shirt up.

They get tangled when Yasmin tries to get the Doctor's bra and shirt off without breaking the kiss. Pulling free, the Doctor huffs out a laugh. "Let's get you into a chair and me naked."

Someone shoves a chair at them, and Yasmin remembers the room again. She can't really concentrate on it, though. Her legs are like jelly, her heart still beating far too quickly. Half-collapsing into the chair, she leans back into it and watches as the Doctor kicks off her boots and drags off shirt, bra, trousers, pants, socks, the works.

Abruptly, Yasmin has a lap full of naked time lord, as her lover straddles her legs and drops onto her. Grabbing her hips, Yasmin pulls her closer, letting her hands slide around her sides to stroke up her back.

There is something amazing about the Doctor naked, something powerful and pagan, that Yasmin doesn't always like to feel.

Right now, surrounded in an orgy? She's feeling it. She kisses the Doctor, sucking her tongue into her own mouth, then shoving it back and chasing it with her own. Sloppy, wet, hungry kisses that make the Doctor shift, rubbing herself against Yasmin's leg.

Eventually, it's not enough, and Yasmin leans back, breaking their kiss. "Stand up and turn around."

Shameless, the Doctor does as ordered, wriggling her behind a little. "Like the view, love?"

"Always." Bending forwards, Yasmin presses a kiss to the base of the Doctor's spine, then nips at the same spot. She brushes another kiss upwards, but there's really no time for a leisurely inspection of the miles of lovely skin before her, so she straightens again, hands on the Doctor's hips. "C'mere, you."

The Doctor sits down again, legs to either side, and leans back into Yasmin, arching her back and presenting those lovely breasts. "Like this?"

"Mm." Kissing and nipping at her shoulder, Yasmin strokes her hands up and down the Doctor's sides, then around to her breasts. Cupping them, she considers the angle and regretfully concludes she can't reach them to suck marks into them. This time. Perhaps later, when she has the time to devote to it, and the Doctor restrained and begging.

Both hands slide down, and she dips her fingers into the Doctor's cunt, tugging at the curls at the apex of her thighs. She's already wet, so wet, and Yasmin files away the discovery that exhibitionism isn't just a thing for showing off her mad genius.

The Doctor's arms come up, one hand reaching behind Yasmin's neck to steady herself. Her head turns and she presses a kiss against Yasmin's jaw. "Please."

Fingertips brushing a series of letters and numbers against the Doctor's labia and clit, Yasmin drags it out a bit. She's always enjoyed this part, the shifts in her lovers' tones, the way their bodies twitch and shiver. The way they _writhe_ when trying not to show how much they _need_. The doctor's breathing speeds up, quicker, more erratic, and she starts to murmur.

Not quite begging, but something akin to it.

Yasmin grins and then stops playing. Fingers from each hand tease her opening, both thumbs twitch along the sides of her clit. A quick rhythm is established as she slides fingers in and out and in and out, the Doctor's hips shifting and twitching as she chases her orgasm.

When it finishes building, when it happens, Yasmin is almost surprised. The Doctor arches further, head against Yasmin's shoulder and body taut. Her internal muscles are clamped like a vice around three fingers, before the clamps flutter and release and spasm. Slowing her movements, she edges one hand away to grip the Doctor's hip to steady her, not wanting her to fall in the moment.

Slowly, the pulses under her fingers slow and the Doctor sags, releasing a long breath. "Honestly, Yaz, I think we need to patent those hands of yours."

"Not a chance," tilting her head, Yasmin kisses the Doctor's cheek and whispers, "That's all they need, yeah?"

"Should be... just let me recover and we can get back to the ship."

Nuzzling her nose against the Doctor's ear, Yasmin gave a quiet sigh of relief. "Sounds like a plan."

-f-


End file.
